It is 2:20 am and I am, once again, unable to sleep. If my sleep deprivation can be divided into two categories, one being insomnia, the worst is the one I am now: Sadness.

When you don’t sleep because you just can’t, it’s annoying. But when you can’t sleep because of so many (depressing) thoughts running through your head, your exhaustion just exasperates your sadness, and it becomes an on-going cycle that only ends if you’re lucky enough to just crash into sleep.

Tonight, I am unlucky. Each thought perpetuates another. If I actually reach the point where I replace a thought, the replacement grows to be worse than the original; I find myself wishing for the first. And each brings more tears.

It’s not that I lay down and decided it’s time to think about my mom. Just the opposite. What got me through the 1 year anniversary of my mom’s death was the knowledge that exactly one month later I would be celebrating my 1 year anniversary with The Boy.

We’re planning on taking a trip up north and doing some hiking. So here’s the thought process:

1) Find a cool place up north

2) Have a wonderful weekend

3) Think how incredibly unbelievable it is that I have been with someone for a year (not to mention such a great one)

4) Think back to how lucky I am that he has such a great family

5) Think back to the first time I met them

6) Think back to me crying in front of him for the first time because he wouldn’t get to meet my mom

7) Think it’s not fair

8) Cry

9) Sniff

10) Sit up because I am choking on my years when I am lying down

11) Pick up the picture of my parents from about 10 years ago that is, probably, the best picture of my mom, other than from her wedding

12) Cry

13) Sniff

14) Think it’s not fair

15) Stare at the picture of my mom, trying to animate it, unsuccessfully

19) Look at the clock, realize it’s 2:45 am, and know I’m headed for another day of exhaustion

20) And I haven’t even been close to sleeping yet.

I don’t know how to get rid of these thoughts. All I can think of is how unfair this all is. It’s unfair that she died so young and is no longer part of our lives. It’s unfair that she won’t be around, and won’t hug us anymore.

Its unfair that she won’t be able to dispense invaluable advice, such as what type of washing machine not to buy and what detergent for sure gives me hives.

And, man, how I miss her smell. I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed your moms have a smell (everyone does, duh). But it’s just different. I don’t know what it is about her smell that makes me miss it so much, maybe the comfort that comes along with it.

Before she died, when she was basically gone and no longer knew what was going on around her, I hugged her when I was leaving the hospital, and I accidentally “sniffed” her and realized that her smell was unique. I don’t think it was something I had noticed before. But from that day on, I always “sniffed” her before I left, fully knowing it could be the last time.

Something about the combination of the feeling of her skin with her smell, which was clearly not related to perfume or soap at this point, was still a comfort of sorts, even with the knowledge that it would soon be gone.

I know it sounds weird, but it’s just there. Next time you hug your mom, sniff her, you’ll know what I’m talking about.

Before I begin, I’d like to give a quick update on my last post. My grandfather is fine for the most part. He was supposed to be released from the hospital on Thursday afternoon, but he got up in the morning, changed clothes, told the doctor she’s nice – but he’s not staying, and went home.

Yes, my 90 year old grandfather ran away from the hospital. 🙂

Back to the matter at hand.

Last night was the first night of Passover. It’s my favorite holiday. My brother in law’s family invited us over for the seder and we went there instead of spending it with family. I wasn’t planning on going. I didn’t want to spend the first Passover without my mom with people who I don’t know very well. I didn’t say anything to anyone since it has only been a month since my mom died, and I thought we were emotional enough.

For the past month, I had every intention of “calling in sick” at the last minute, but when it came down to it, I decided to suck it up and deal rather than confront my family. It was actually really nice, and, in retrospect, it was probably a lot better than had we spent it with close friends or family.

Today we had a Passover lunch at friends/family. I call them that because we are technically not related, but it’s only technically. My parents’ best friends invited us over and there were probably around 25-30 people. It was so much fun. The parents are like an aunt and uncle and their kids are like our brothers and sister. The “breakdown” came after lunch.

I have had a really great week. It started on Thursday, the day after the unveiling of my mom’s gravestone, and events that transpired, which I am not going to get into at the moment, have helped me forget everything that has been going on. No tears for a week. But it was bound to come back, and it did at the most inopportune time.

I was basically talking to my mom’s best friend (the mom) about stuff that I never had a chance to tell my mom, mainly because it was something that happened after she died. But the fact that I didn’t have the opportunity to tell her – and I know how happy it would make her – just really got to me, and I started to cry (in my quiet tears-are-falling-down-my-face but I’m-still-smiling-ish way). Thankfully, them being very close family, no explantion was required. They didn’t think it was an allergic reaction to the gefilte fish.

So while I had a great lunch/dinner (we were there for a zillion hours), it was hard. I guess I was able to avoid this at the seder last night because we weren’t with close family, but today just had to happen, especially since the events from the past week have basically made everything else disappear, but it couldn’t stay like that forever. I am still grieving, I guess, and everyone says it will be that way for a while.

After all, who would have thought last year at the seder that my mom wouldn’t be here for this one?